Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Castiel was in the courtyard outside the school, hunched over his phone as usual, brows knit together in that permanent frown of his. He was always like this—gruff, closed-off, especially with people like Nathaniel. But her? Sometimes, with her, the cold melted into something warmer. Just barely.

She walked up slowly, the heat of the sun beating down as she slipped a pack of cigarettes from her bag. With the ease of habit, she offered him one.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked, voice soft but edged with that familiar teasing tone. She pulled one for herself and lit it with a flick, the tip glowing bright between her lips.

Castiel barely looked up. His scowl didn’t change, but he accepted the cigarette with a grunt. He leaned in, and for the briefest moment, the flame caught the sharp lines of his face—red hair glowing like embers. He muttered under his breath, smoke curling past his lips. “Just fucking around on this thing.”

She leaned on the wall beside him, cigarette between her fingers, inhaling slowly. Her gaze drifted up to the blinding blue sky. A squint. Then back to him—always him. “Have you seen Lys lately? I think he’s got a pretty big crush on the new girl.”

Castiel's face twisted, the disdain practically dripping off his tongue as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. Fucking pathetic. Running after that blonde chick like a goddamn puppy.” More venom than usual. His eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

Her brow rose, arms crossing as she exhaled. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you? What did Lys do to get you so angry?” She purposely ignored the pointed question he threw at her.

He turned, the last drag of his cigarette burning fast between his fingers before he flicked it away. His jaw ticked, eyes narrowing.

“He’s just... naive. Following after some bitch who doesn’t give a fuck about him.”

She sucked in another drag, the smoke sharp in her throat, then exhaled through her nose. “Well, I suppose you haven’t heard the news, then.”

That got him. His stance shifted, arms folding tight across his chest as he leaned back into the wall again. Suspicion flooded his face. “What news?”

She tried to hide the smirk. “I caught them kissing on the stairs two days ago after class. They were so flustered it was actually hilarious. So yeah, I wouldn’t call Candy a ‘bitch who doesn’t give a fuck about him.’”

His eyes widened, just for a second—then back to guarded. But she saw it. The way surprise flared and then got quickly buried under a deeper scowl.

“Fuck off. You’re probably lying just to piss me off.” But the doubt was there. His voice lacked its usual bite.

“Ask Lys if you don’t believe me,” she said, raising her hands as if in surrender. “Now seriously, what’s the matter with you? You’re grumpier than usual.”

He looked at her, and for a long moment, just glared. But the fight seemed to fade. He kicked at a pebble on the ground, eyes somewhere far away. “Nothing,” he said sharply. “I’m just in a bad mood, alright?”

She cracked her pack open again. “Alright, sure dude. I’ll leave you alone if you want.”

Castiel watched her take out another cigarette, eyes flicking to the curve of her lips, the casual way she always had one ready. Almost imperceptibly, his shoulders eased.

Then, without warning, he reached forward and plucked the cigarette right from her mouth. “Give me that,” he muttered, lighting it with his own lighter, fingers brushing hers.

She laughed, stepping in front of him and snatching it back between her lips. “Hey!” she said, hands on her hips. “It’s your turn to offer ciggies.”

He actually smirked. That rare, crooked grin that made him look like trouble and heaven all at once. “Fine, fine.” He reached into his own pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and handed it to her without another word.

She took it, smirking, and slipped it neatly into her own pack, holding the fresh one between her fingers as she took a drag.

“You little thief,” Castiel said with a low chuckle. He ran a hand through his hair again. “I should start charging you for these.”

She exhaled slow and smoky. “As if I didn’t just invite you to a ciggie five seconds ago. Didn’t take you for such a cheapskate.”

His eyes rolled, but there was the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Shut up.” Then he leaned forward again, snatched the cigarette from her fingers, took a long drag, and handed it back. “Asshole.”

She stared at the cigarette, then into his eyes. Her heart didn’t flutter. It slammed.

For a second, Castiel held her gaze. That heat—subtle, sharp, unbearable. Then he blinked, pulled back first, and took another drag.

She smoked it to the filter in silence, then threw it away and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Aren’t you gonna accompany me? Make sure I get home safely?”

Castiel froze. His heart stuttered. Shit. He watched her walk away, the curve of her back, the challenge in her tone.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself more than to her, pushing off the wall and following. “Like I haven’t done that every damn night for the past year anyway.”

They walked side by side through the city, footsteps echoing softly on the quiet streets. She didn’t say much, didn’t need to. The silence between them felt lived in, like something worn and warm. She could feel his glances, the way he kept peeking at her from the corner of his eye, but the scowl never fully left his face.

When they reached her doorstep, she turned, waiting for him to say something—anything. Instead, he just stared for a second too long. Then, finally:

“You gonna invite me in or what?” he asked, his voice gruff, low.

She chuckled, but her heart pounded traitorously hard. He’d been inside before, sure—dinners, hangouts—but never like this. Never with her parents out of the picture, and the house quiet in a way that left too much space for what-ifs.

“Sure, big boy,” she said, her voice teasing, a smirk on her lips. “Let’s go.”

He followed her inside, every step echoing louder in the empty house. His eyes scanned the hallway, alert, sharp—taking in the lack of parental chatter, no TV humming in the background, no smell of her mom’s perfume wafting through the air.

“Your folks out or something?” he asked, tone deceptively casual.

“Ugh, yeah. They went to visit my aunt… overseas.”

That landed. His red brows rose slightly. Alone. She was alone. His throat worked as he swallowed, trying not to read too much into it. “Right… how long are they gone for?”

“Well…” she paused, pretending to be casual, “last time I spoke with them, they told me they don’t expect to be home before Sunday. Next Sunday.”

That hit like a sucker punch. Castiel’s mind reeled. More than a week. Ten whole fucking days. No interruptions. No one else here. Just… her.

He rubbed the back of his neck, mouth dry. “So… uh… you’ll be here all by yourself?”

“Not by myself by myself,” she said, and she opened the patio door where her dog, Moony, lay sprawled out lazily in the sun. “I’ve got this big boy here to keep me company.”

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to. She knew the tension was climbing between them, thick as the humidity in the air.

He looked at the dog and nodded, relieved—but not enough to drown out the other thoughts. Down, dick. Not the time.

“Right... Moony.”

She cleared her throat and offered, a bit rushed, “I should probably give him dinner. Are you… do you wanna stay for dinner? I mean, if you don’t have any plans, ‘cause if you do I totally get it, I just—”

“No plans,” Castiel interrupted, cutting her nervous ramble with a soft voice. His lips twitched. “I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Great. Good.” She went to the kitchen, pulling out Moony’s bowl and a can of dog food. “There’s not much in the fridge so we could order something if you want. My parents gave me some money for takeout.”

He leaned in the doorway, one arm against the frame, watching her fuss over the dog. His smirk curled slow, sly. “Takeout sounds good to me. Got a preference or should I grab the menu?”

“No preference, whatever you choose is nice.” She smiled sheepishly, and it fucking melted him.

He turned to the fridge, scrolling through the delivery apps stuck under the magnets. “Pizza okay?”

“Pizza sounds great. Get a four cheese one, okay? Maybe another one, whatever you want. If there’s leftovers, I can freeze them.”

He chuckled as Moony began pawing at her impatiently, tongue lolling, excited for dinner. “Moony’s a little impatient, huh?”

“He’s always been anxious about food. I’m always worried he’ll choke. How did you train Demon to eat slowly?”

Castiel's smirk softened, voice amused as he watches her bending down to place the bowl on the floor. “Demon’s got more self-control than this guy. I taught him to wait by making him sit until I give the command. Took a while, but worth it.”

“Ugh, I couldn’t. The second Moony starts whining, I give in.”

“You’re too soft on him. That’s what makes you a good owner though.”

She glanced up at him then, her eyes scanning his lean frame. “You can leave your stuff in my room,” she said, nodding at his backpack and jacket.

He glanced down at himself, then back up at her, and for once his voice lost its edge. “Thanks.” He unzipped his jacket, slipped it off slowly, and hung it on one of the kitchen chairs. “Where’s your room?”

Her heart thudded. “Follow me.”

She led him across the hallway, into a room painted in greys and purples. The queen-size bed took up most of the space, clothes scattered over it lazily. Her desk was cluttered with a laptop, an ashtray near the window, and… oh fuck.

Her closet was wide open.
And her lingerie drawer was halfway out.

Bright reds, purples, a neon pink thong sat boldly on top like a declaration.

“Fuck!” she rushed over, slamming the drawer shut hard. “Sorry about that.”

Castiel looked away too late. His brain had definitely processed what he saw.
Lace. Silk. That neon pink was going to haunt him.

He cleared his throat, face flushed, his voice forced casual. “No worries. Everyone has… stuff like that.”

She tried to play it off with a smirk. “Really? You’ve got a collection of neon pink thongs I didn’t know about?”

He laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “Very funny. For the record, my taste is more… black silk.”

Her pulse jumped. “For the record…” she dropped her voice, leaning in slightly, “I also have some of those.”

His smile twisted devilish. One step closer. “Is that so?” He leaned back on her desk, eyes burning into hers. “Black silk or something else?”

She kept the game going, lips curled. “Oh no, just black silk in there. The dildo drawer is actually in my bedside table.”

He choked, eyes going wide. “You did not just say that.” He started coughing from surprise and laughter. “Dildo drawer? Really?”

She grinned like a cat. “What? God forbid a girl has a few toys for lonely nights.”

He laughed at her dildo drawer quip, the sound genuine and low, and shook his head as he leaned back against her desk. There was a flicker of nerves behind his grin, though. A bite of the lower lip, then a pause.

"Fair enough," he muttered. Then, with that unmistakable gleam of mischief in his eyes, he pushed:
"Although… I have to ask—how many is a few? Just curious."

She bit her lip, hesitant. Should she really answer that? But Castiel’s gaze was steady, playful but sincere.
“Oh, you know,” she said, trying to sound casual, “just a bit of everything. Just... a few.”

He took a step closer, his smirk widening. The bastard was enjoying this way too much.
“Just a few, huh?” His voice dropped, teasing and slow. “So, like… five? Ten? A whole drawer full?” His eyes sparkled with unfiltered curiosity.

She let out a sheepish laugh and stepped slightly in front of the drawer in question, subtly shielding it with her body like some overprotective gatekeeper.

Castiel noticed immediately. His chuckle was soft, but his eyes glinted knowingly. “Aha,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall beside her nightstand. “So it’s more like… a lot.”

She avoided his gaze, shooting him a sarcastic smile instead. “I don’t even want to know what you’re imagining. Your mind’s probably exaggerating.”

His laugh rumbled deep in his chest, warm and amused. “Probably,” he admitted. His eyes locked with hers, sharp and unreadable. “But seriously, there’s nothing wrong with having a few toys. I’m not judging.”

Then, that smirk returned, slow and wicked. “Although…” He tilted his head, voice dipping again, “I am curious. Do you have a favorite? A go-to toy that really hits the spot?”

Her face flushed again, heat rushing up her neck. “I-It depends on what I’m into in that moment.”

His eyes lit up like someone just handed him the key to heaven. “Mhmm… so you’re into variety then?” His voice was silk-wrapped sin. He pushed off the wall and moved toward her, slow and sure, every step deliberate. “Different textures? Sizes? Functions?”

She stared at him, barely breathing. He really is having the time of his life teasing me, isn’t he?

Well—fuck it.

Her feet moved before her brain could argue. She met him halfway, one hand splaying across his chest, fingertips pressing into the black fabric of his shirt. She looked up through her lashes, her voice velvet and smoke.

“More like… what hole I’m wanting it in at that moment.”

Castiel’s breath caught. The smile died on his lips.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Her words hit him like a brick to the face—hot, dirty, disarming. His pupils dilated, and for once, he didn’t have a clever comeback. His cock twitched hard in his jeans, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from groaning aloud.

He swallowed. “Fuck me,” he whispered under his breath. Then louder, steadier: “So… you’re versatile then?”

She blinked up at him, all wide-eyed sin in the flesh. “Oh, you have no idea,” she murmured, the words curling around his spine like smoke.

Then—ding-dong. The doorbell rang, slicing through the moment like a butcher’s knife.

The doorbell rang again, louder this time. Moony barked from the patio, excited, clueless, dragging the moment back to earth.

Castiel blinked, still stunned from her words, his mind in a spiral of images—her straddling his lap, bent over, begging for—

Breathe, fucker.

He cleared his throat, covering his reaction with a muttered, “Well. That’s... convenient timing.”

She turned toward the door like nothing had happened, masking the same frustration clawing at her chest. Her body was still buzzing, skin tingling from how close they’d gotten. She didn’t look back as she said, “Damn right. I’m starving.”

He followed behind her, eyes shamelessly tracing the lines of her legs as she moved. When she opened the door, the pizza guy stood there, grinning like an idiot.

She handed him a twenty without thinking, murmuring, “Keep the change.”

The delivery guy’s eyes went wide. “Holy hell. Thanks, cutie! Have a great night.” He winked and whistled as he turned to leave.

Castiel watched the scene unfold, arms crossed, lips twitching. He didn’t even have to say it.

She turned, brow creased, gaze bouncing from the departing delivery guy to Castiel.

“…Please don’t tell me you paid through the app and I just gave that guy a $20 tip.”

He couldn’t hold it in. He burst out laughing, the kind that bent him over, clutching his side.

“Oh my god, yes,” he gasped between chuckles. “You just tipped that guy twenty bucks to walk two blocks to your door.”

“Fuck,” she muttered, face heating up. “Sorry—I’ll pay you back. I just need to grab my wallet—”

He waved her off, still laughing. “Nah, nah, this is too priceless. You overtipping the pizza guy is officially the highlight of my week.”

She narrowed her eyes and dropped the pizza boxes on the coffee table with a thud. “Nice to know my personal suffering is so fucking entertaining for you.”

Still grinning, he sat on the couch, propping an arm along the back. “Suffering builds character.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to grab glasses, napkins, plates—everything they’d need. When she returned, he was already digging into a slice, lounging like he owned the place.

“You’re getting quite the workout today,” he commented, utterly smug. “Running back and forth…”

She set everything down and glared at him. “You are pushing your luck, Castiel.”

He leaned back with exaggerated innocence. “Am I? I’m just saying—you’re looking very... active tonight.”

“Ha ha,” she said, grabbing a slice of pizza. The crust burned her fingertips and she yelped softly, setting it back down. “Shit, that’s hot.”

He watched with barely concealed amusement. “Forgot the water, too.”

With a groan, she turned back toward the fridge, grabbing the cold bottle and returning in silence.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. “Guilty as charged. It’s just too easy to get under your skin tonight.”

She chose not to respond and picked up her pizza again.

“By the way,” he added slyly, “you forgot napkins.”

“I did not-,” she snapped—then paused, eyes scanning the table. Empty. No napkins. “Fuck.” She stood up with a huff and stomped off to the kitchen.

He was laughing before she even left the room. “You were so damn sure of yourself, too…”

When she returned, he took one from the stack she’d grabbed and, intentionally, let his fingers brush hers—just for a beat too long.

She ignored the touch. At least on the outside.

“Look who’s talking. You were all grumpy after school.”

“Mhm,” he said, taking another bite. “I had a reason. You on the other hand?” He grinned. “You’re hyper. And clumsy. You spill shit.”

She turned slowly to him, crossing her arms. “Please. Enlighten me how you reached that conclusion.”

He raised an eyebrow and started counting off on his fingers. “You spilled your coffee this morning. Smoothie yesterday. You tripped over nothing earlier. Oh, and let’s not forget—” his voice dropped just slightly—“the incident with the lingerie drawer. And the… nightstand drawer.”

Her eyes widened. Fuck. She’d hoped he’d forgotten that.

“You are cruising for a bruising,” she said, only half joking.

He rose from the couch, slow, towering over her with that fucking smirk carved across his face. “Is that a threat?”

She leaned back, calm, though her pulse was racing. “Hardly.”

He stopped inches from her. One arm on each side of the couch’s backrest, boxing her in. His voice came out a murmur, right at her lips.

“Because it sounded like one.”

Just as their mouths were about to brush—CLUNK.

Moony launched himself onto the coffee table, devouring the pizza crusts like a demon possessed.

Castiel blinked. The tension shattered like glass.

He broke into laughter. “That’s one way to ruin the mood.”

She sprang into action, pulling Moony off the table. “Moony! Off—down!” She turned to Castiel, cheeks flushed from more than just the interruption after she processed his’s words. “Was that a declaration of intentions, Veilmont?”

He leaned against the sofa, eyes locked on her. “A declaration?” His lips twisted. “Hardly. More like a statement of the obvious.”

She stared at him, caught between confusion and something warmer, something deeper curling low in her belly.

She gathered the plates and boxes, moving everything off the coffee table to the kitchen counter—out of Moony’s reach this time. Then, without a word, she headed toward her room and beckoned for him to follow.

He watched her move. The sway of her hips, the way she looked over her shoulder. He didn’t even try to hide the groan in his throat. “Damn.”

He followed.

She led him in, back into the low-lit den of chaos and heat that was her bedroom. The furniture was black and purple, the walls muted gray—moody, personal. Her desk cluttered and lived-in, the laptop half-open, the ashtray overflowing under the cracked-open window like a small ritual had been performed there every night. The bed still held their earlier mess: a few forgotten clothes strewn over rumpled blankets. That damn drawer remained closed now, but its ghost still lingered in the room.

She didn’t say a word. Just walked to her desk, popped the window open a little wider, and sat on it like it was a throne—legs folded, cigarette pinched lazily between her fingers.

Castiel followed slowly, eyes flicking from the desk to her, then back again. His thigh brushed hers as he sat beside her on the windowsill, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

He smirked. “Cute how you’ve developed a smoking habit since I started giving you these.”

She took a long drag, blew smoke past her lips, and smiled without looking at him. “Oh, please. I already had the habit before I met you. You’re not the bad influence you think you are. At least not that much.”

He laughed softly and dug out his own cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick. He inhaled deep, the ember flaring. “Oh really? So I’m not corrupting you?”

She turned her head, letting her eyes linger on the smoke curling around his face. “Corrupting me?” She grinned. “I could be corrupting you.”

His eyes slid to her lips, dark and hungry. The way they wrapped around the filter, the casual confidence in her voice. He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting himself without being obvious.

Fucking hell.
“Right… because a sweet little thing like you…” He let his voice trail off, deliberately slow, loaded with implication. “…could corrupt someone like me? Is what you hide in that drawer really that bad?”

She chuckled, looked him dead in the eyes, then let her gaze drift pointedly to the nightstand. “Who knows...”

He leaned in, voice low, teasing but edged with curiosity. “You know what they say about curiosity killing the cat? I’m starting to wonder if I should be worried.”

She smirked.

Then came the line—the match dropped into gasoline.
“Wanna test that theory?”

His cigarette paused midway to his mouth. He looked at her, blinked, once.
She was serious. His smirk didn’t break, but it changed—more teeth, less guard.
“Alright, sweetheart… Let’s see what you’ve been hiding.”

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray perched on her lap, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed off the desk. She moved to her bed, sitting cross-legged right in the center like she’d done it a hundred times before—but this time, her face was unreadable. Like she already knew what was about to happen and wasn’t going to stop it.

Castiel stepped to the drawer.

Pulled it open.

And froze.

His eyes scanned the contents slowly—like he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

A small vibrator. Packs of condoms. Nipple clamps. A sleek black flogger. A glint of chrome—handcuffs. And then, in the back, something that made him exhale with a soft, breathless laugh.

An anal plug.

“Holy…” he whispered.

She watched him pick up each item with almost clinical interest, examining it before setting it down on the bed beside her, forming a twisted little lineup. When he reached for the plug, he stopped mid-motion, looked at her, eyes wide.

“Wait…”

She bit her lip, teasing. “What?”

He held the plug carefully, reverently, like it might bite him. “Sweetheart…” His voice was hoarse. “Have you actually… used all these?”

She didn’t flinch. “Well, yeah.”

His throat worked visibly, swallowing hard. “I mean… this?” He held up the plug.

“I don’t use that one much,” she said casually, motioning toward the back of the drawer. “The bigger ones are back there.”

Castiel’s brain combusted.

He looked back into the drawer, reached in—and pulled out a larger plug. Thick. Fist-sized. Jet black and definitely not for beginners. He held it up with both disbelief and awe.
“Jesus Christ… that’s—” he cleared his throat “—that’s big. Have you actually used this?”

Her gaze dropped, somewhere between shame and fire. Then she lifted her eyes back to his.

“Well, yeah. I have.”

His jaw clenched. His grip on the toy tightened. His brain couldn’t reconcile the soft, teasing girl sitting on her bed with the image of her taking this. Alone. Or worse—with someone else.

Fuck.

He had to say something. Anything. “What? Don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. His heart was a mess of pounding blood and envy and very, very dark thoughts. “The question is…” He turned back to her, voice rougher. “What kind of lucky bastard got to stretch your ass this wide…?”

He stared. His chest rose and fell hard.

She met his gaze head-on, waiting for him to finish.

“Has anyone actually… filled you up like that? Or have you just been practicing alone?”

His mind was chewing glass over the idea of some faceless guy wrecking her ass. He needed the truth.

“Answer me honestly.”

She laughed a little, nerves and heat wrapped together. “I’ve actually never… no one’s ever fucked me in the ass before.” She tilted her head. “And as for your question… I just like using the plug sometimes when I’m alone. It also feels really good when I’m fucking someone. I’ve been told it makes things very tight.”

He laughed—loud, stunned, aroused. “So wait… you’ve never had a dick in your ass, but you shove massive plugs up there when you’re alone?”

She gave a slow nod, biting her lip again.

He picked up the plug again, turning it in his hand like it held answers to the universe.

“And also with partners, if they’re into it”

“Of course they’re into it,” he muttered, more to himself than her. His voice dipped into dangerous territory. “Who’s the luckiest person you’ve used this with? What position did you like using it in the most?”

She exhaled, not from shame, but from tension, from arousal, from the way he was looking at her like she was the most complicated thing he’d ever wanted to solve. “I’m not sure about the lucky part. But… I’ve always loved doggy.” Her voice dropped. “I like feeling my cheeks open. And I feel my partners deeper that way. You know?”

Castiel nearly groaned.

His imagination exploded with the image—her bent over, plug in, her slick heat tight around him, ass stretched wide and shaking.

“Damn…” he said under his breath. “You like feeling stuffed, don’t you?”

She grinned. “Well, everyone has different kinks. And since you’ve been exploring my kinky drawer for the past ten minutes, it’s only fair I ask…” She leaned in. “What are your kinks?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, visibly hesitating under her gaze—like the truth might burn him on its way out. “Well, you’ve got me there.” He gently set the plug down, every movement now deliberate, deliberate in how close he stood, in how dark his voice had gotten. “You want the truth? The real fucking dirty truth?”

She leaned forward slightly, the words escaping her in a whisper. “Yeah.”

He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking over her face. God, she looked so innocent asking for my filth. But she wasn’t. Not really. And that truth curled hot in his gut.

“I fucking love bondage,” he said finally, his voice steady but low, like he was confessing something sacred. “Giving it. Getting it. Doesn’t matter.” His gaze sharpened. “I could tie you to your bed and keep you there until I said so. Make you scream so loud they’d hear you in heaven.”

He paused, voice dipping again. “And that’s not even my deepest kink.”

Her breath caught. Blood rushed between her legs at his words, pulsing and hot. She could barely breathe, and somehow, she needed more. Her voice came out softer than she meant. “Is that so?” Her throat bobbed. “And what would you call the deepest kink then?”

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, voice a hushed rumble just below her ear. “The deepest?” His hand lifted, fingers brushing along her collarbone, feather-light. “Mmm… you sure you want to know?”

She swallowed, his touch lighting her skin. She nodded, daring him. “Tell me.”

He didn’t look away, not once, watching the way she ran her tongue across her lips. Watching her need. “God, you’re innocent-looking, asking for my deepest, darkest shit,” he muttered. Then, quieter: “You might judge me after this.”

Her gaze locked with his. “You just saw I own an anal plug the size of a fist. Believe me, I’m not judging—and I’m definitely far from innocent.”

He chuckled at that, a slow exhale of tension. “Fair point.”

His grin faded as his expression darkened, everything about him becoming heavy, weighted, real. “Alright. No holding back.” He swallowed again, his voice graveled. “Spanking. Choking. Biting. Public places.”

Her thighs clenched together involuntarily.

“But my absolute deepest, darkest kink…” He stared at her, measuring.

She held her breath, caught in it.

“…is dominating completely. Taking someone so hard and rough they can’t walk the next day. Using them like a toy. Spitting on them. Calling them filthy names. Humiliating them in the best way possible...”

He stepped closer, eyes fixed on hers. “That’s what gets me off the most.”

Her body tightened. Her breath stuttered. “Fuck…”

Her legs pressed together tighter, hips shifting as if trying to relieve the heat building between them. He just described my deepest fantasy, she realized, nearly breathless. Her eyes flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. Then again to his mouth. She couldn’t help it.

He saw it. He felt the tension arc between them like lightning. His breath hitched, his hand slipping down to her thigh, fingers brushing her inner skin—so close to where she was already throbbing for him.

“You… like that too, don’t you?” he whispered, almost reverently. “The rough stuff?”

Her voice came out raw and breathless. “Fuck yes.”

She parted her legs slightly, letting his hand settle higher up her thigh. Her lips brushed his now. They weren’t kissing, not yet, but every exhale tasted like it.

His pupils dilated, voice a ragged whisper. “So you’d let someone pound into you so hard it hurts? Call you a filthy slut while doing it?”

She smiled, eyes fluttering half-shut. “Yeah… but—Cass…”

“Yeah?” His fingers traced higher, slow, torturous. “Mmm? What is it?” He was practically vibrating, every muscle locked. “You gonna tell me I’m going too far?” His smirk ghosted her lips, teasing.

She struggled to keep her head straight. His touch wasn’t helping. “More like—what’s going to happen after?” Her voice was hesitant, vulnerable, but she forced it out. “Do we go back to being friends? Fuck buddies? Something… more?”

He pulled back just enough to look at her fully, seriously.

“Smart question,” he admitted. His thumb rubbed her thigh, grounding her. “You want an honest answer? No sugarcoating?”

She nodded, eyes tracing his lips. “When have you ever sugarcoated anything anyway?”

“If we cross that line tonight…” He paused, voice dropping lower. “I don’t know what’ll happen. Could go either way. Friends with benefits? Maybe.” His hand came up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… I could easily fucking fall for you, sweetheart. Hard.”

Her breath hitched, pulse hammering in her throat. Maybe that’s all I need to hear, she thought.

“I can work with that,” she muttered, inching forward. Her lips hovered above his, her body practically buzzing, waiting for him to seal it.

Castiel stared into her, eyes dark, hungry, and something softer. Deeper.

He didn’t hesitate.

He closed the space and kissed her like it was inevitable.

He kissed her deeply, like he meant it. Like all the teasing and banter, the flirting and hesitation, had been leading to this one exact moment. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, his lips devouring hers with growing hunger.

She moaned softly against his mouth, her whole body trembling from the kiss, from the pressure building with each passing second.

All the teasing had been building her up for hours.

She didn’t waste time.

Her hands slipped to the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion, dropping it on the floor without fanfare.

Castiel’s breath hitched.

He leaned back just slightly—just enough to look.

She was wearing one of her filthiest black lace bras. Slutty and unapologetic, the lace so sheer he could see her nipples perfectly. And more than that—fuck. She had nipple piercings.

His eyes widened. His pupils blew wide. His hand on her neck tightened just slightly.

“Holy fuck…” he whispered.

She bit her lip, playful and sweet. “Y’like them?”

His thumb ran lightly over the edge of her bra, fingers trembling just a little. “Like? Baby, I’ve fucking died and gone to heaven.” He leaned down, kissing the valley between her breasts, reverent. His voice was rasped, wrecked. “When did you… fuck… when did you get those?”

“Six months ago,” she answered with a breathy laugh. “Guess I forgot to mention them.”

He chuckled against her chest, but it quickly turned into something rougher, deeper. His tongue trailed lower, down her stomach in slow, heated strokes.

She laughed—but the sound shifted into a soft moan as his tongue traced her skin. God, he was good at this. It wasn’t just lust, it was like worship, like obsession with every inch of her.

“Six fucking months,” he muttered darkly, dragging his tongue back up toward her chest, “and you never thought to mention these gorgeous piercings?”

Then his mouth latched onto one through the thin black lace.

She gasped, spine arching toward his mouth, fingers gripping his shoulders as he suckled the soft swell of her breast. His hand came up, palming the other, thumb rolling the stiffened metal-studded peak.

“But isn’t it a nice surprise?” she breathed out, voice shaky and turned on, her hands already behind her back to unclasp the bra.

She let it fall slowly.

Castiel growled—growled—as the bra dropped away and revealed her fully. Her nipples were hard and pierced, pink and taut and shameless. He didn’t wait.

His mouth captured one immediately, sucking it hard, tongue flicking the barbell before biting down gently, just enough to make her gasp. His other hand pinched the other nipple, rolling the metal between his fingers, tugging.

“Fucking hell…” he growled, heat thick in his voice.

She moaned, her spine curving toward him, his tongue dragging lightning down her nerves, her moans broken and breathy and too loud but she didn’t care. Her fingers slipped into his dyed hair, clutching the back of his head, dragging his mouth off her breast and straight into another kiss—hot, messy, tongue tangled with his.

He kissed her back just as hungrily, hands roaming her sides, her hips, gripping her like he’d break her in half if he wasn’t careful.

Then her hands found the hem of his shirt.

She pulled it up, revealing pale skin, a tight torso, lean muscle. She dropped it on the floor and kissed him again, more desperate this time, her teeth grazing his bottom lip.

His hands dropped to her ass, gripping it hard, kneading it as he kissed her deep.

Then her hands slid down—down to the buckle of his jeans.

She felt it already. The hard tent pressed against the denim. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her pace didn’t falter as she began to undo the buckle.

He hissed, voice guttural, low, primal. His hips bucked slightly into her hand.

She got his pants open, helped him shove them down, boxers still tented tightly around the thick bulge underneath. It looked huge. Felt huge.

She bit her lip. He might actually leave me unable to walk tomorrow—and I fucking love it.

Her hand slipped closer, gripping the hard length through the soft fabric, massaging it slowly.

“Fuck…” Castiel’s head dropped forward, his voice a growl in her ear. “Sweetheart…”

He didn’t wait another second.

His hands moved to her waist, unbuttoning her jeans, yanking them down fast—her underwear with them—leaving her naked on the bed beneath him, completely exposed.

He stared.

Fuck, she’s perfect.

Her hand kept moving, stroking him through his boxers, until finally she hooked her fingers in the waistband and pulled them down.

His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, slick at the tip. Her eyes dropped to the dark, freshly shaven pubes at the base, the black a sharp contrast to the red in his hair, a quiet reminder of his natural color.

She licked her lips unconsciously as her hand wrapped around him fully.

He exhaled harshly, breath shaking. His hands moved to her bare ass again, gripping and spreading it, eyes drinking in every part of her as she stroked him, slow and lubed from his arousal.

Then she paused, leaning to get a silver wrapper in her hand. “Fuck—uhm… I have a bunch of condoms in my drawer. Are—are you clean, though?”

He chuckled softly, voice hoarse. “I’m clean. Got tested last month. You?”

She bit her lip again, eyes on his. “I got tested two weeks ago, after I donated blood. I’m clean. I… also have an IUD.” Her voice softened. “But if you still want to use condoms, I don’t mind at all.”

He watched her carefully, brows relaxing.

“You serious about the IUD?” he asked, voice low and serious. “And no STDs?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m serious. But again, if you’re not comfortable, we can always use condoms, and—”

He cut her off, placing a finger gently on her lips. “Stop,” he murmured. “I trust you.” His eyes searched hers. “I’ve never gone bare before…” He took the condom she’d been holding and set it aside. “You sure about this?”

She nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah. We should probably get some lube, though. Condoms usually come pre-lubed, and it’s good to have some… for that and… other things.”

He leaned back on his heels, eyes dark with interest as he watched her move to the drawer and retrieve the bottle.

She returned, flipping the cap open, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before wrapping her hand around his cock again. She stroked slowly, working the lube in, watching his eyes flutter and jaw clench.

“Smart,” he muttered, voice a gravelled rasp. “Lube is good.” Then he glanced at her eyes, remembered what she’d said earlier. “Now, what other things are you talking about?”

She didn’t answer.

Not directly.

Her palm worked his slick, hard length, lube gliding down the shaft as she stroked him slow and steady. His hips jerked upward involuntarily, like her touch was dragging raw electricity from his spine. The tension in his thighs, the twitch in his abs—he was wound up tight.

Then his eyes followed hers, flicking to the thick anal plug lying beside them on the bed.

His cock twitched hard in her grip.

He remembered every word she’d said earlier. About how it felt. About how tight it made her when it was in. And he saw it now—imagined it perfectly. Her bent over, plug buried in her, his cock stretching her open from the front while that heavy toy filled her from behind.

He swallowed hard. “You really want that in today?” he asked, voice rough, almost uncertain—like he wasn’t sure if he could handle what would happen if she said yes.

She leaned in, voice hushed and trembling with heat. “Honestly? With how horny I am today…” She glanced down at his slick length, still pulsing in her grip. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I asked you to take my anal virginity by the end of the night.”

His breath caught—literally halted.

A visible tremor rolled through him, like her words short-circuited his control completely. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, halting her strokes mid-motion.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled, his voice strained and furious with need. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m already this hard.”

She giggled, low and sultry, looking up through her lashes like she hadn’t just shattered him. Then she leaned in, lips crashing into his in a kiss that was all tongue and teeth and wild hunger. Her body pressed flush to his, bare chest against his, wet and aching.

“I want you to take me like your fantasy,” she whispered against his mouth. “Rough and hard.”

Another kiss—hotter, filthier.

“I want you to break my pussy,” she breathed. “Please.”

That was the last fucking straw.

His hands snapped to her waist, fingers digging into her skin, possessive. The kiss that followed was punishing—his mouth bruising hers, his teeth dragging her lower lip roughly before he bit down hard.

“You want me to fuck you that rough?” he snarled against her lips, hips grinding into hers now, cock dragging against her slick slit. “No romantic shit? Just hard? Brutal?”

She whimpered, nodding against him. His teeth scraped her lip again.

“And if I pull your hair?” he growled. “Spank you?”

She smirked, eyes glassy and wild with lust. “Then I’ll say thank you.”

Fuck, she meant it.

Romantic bullshit could come later—if it ever did. Right now? She was dripping. She was feral. She needed him to ruin her.

His growl rumbled from deep in his chest, primal and raw, as his fingers threaded into her hair and yanked.

Hard.

Her head jerked back, exposing the pale line of her throat. He pressed in, mouth dragging along her neck, tongue tracing her pulse, breath scalding her skin.

“And what about marks?” he asked, voice hoarse and trembling with restraint. “Are you gonna freak out if I leave bruises on this gorgeous fucking body?”

Her whole body arched against him, hips grinding against the thick head of his cock, so wet now he could feel it dripping down his shaft.

“Fuck, Castiel,” she moaned. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do right now that I won’t thank you for.”

With a satisfied smirk, Castiel shoved her roughly onto her back, the impact making her gasp in surprise and need.

"Such a fuckin' good girl..." he murmured darkly, grabbing her thighs and spreading them wide with firm, greedy hands. “Those sweet words coming out of your mouth... I should ruin that pretty pussy.”

Then he paused, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight.

“Hm. Wait. I remember you saying…” His voice deepened, almost mocking. “You love being mounted like a bitch.”

He leaned over her, breath hot against her lips.

“What do you say, love? Do you want to be my bitch tonight?”

She couldn’t answer. Not with words. Her body pulsed, her pussy throbbed at the sound of his voice. A moan escaped her lips, pure and helpless. That was all the answer he needed.

She let him manhandle her however he wanted—her body his to command, to use. She was completely at his mercy.

Grinning wickedly, Castiel grabbed her hips and flipped her over in one smooth, brutal motion, positioning her on her hands and knees. Her breath caught at the strength of him.

He moved behind her, gripping her ass hard—one cheek in each hand—and growled, “Stay right there, bitch.” Then a sharp slap rang out as his palm connected with her ass, making her yelp. “Don’t you dare move unless I tell you to.”

She didn’t dare.

She stayed perfectly still, trembling in anticipation as she waited—for the stretch, for the fill, for him. She heard him grab the bottle of lube. Heard the slick sound of it coating his fingers. Then she felt his callused hands return to her thighs, rubbing the lube over her folds, her slick skin, massaging her pussy.

She moaned loudly at the touch—then whimpered when he pulled his hand away.

His cock pressed against her soaked entrance, the head teasing slow, tight circles at her slit. And then—

He slammed into her. No warning.

She gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a single burst. He filled her in one brutal thrust, deep and unforgiving.

“Is this what my little slut wants?” he growled, the sound vicious and ragged.

Her head dropped to the mattress, body limp, wrecked in seconds. All she could do was moan—her pussy stretched wide, painfully full but so good.

His grip on her hips tightened, fingertips biting into her flesh as he began to fuck her—hard, deep, brutal. Each thrust drove her further up the mattress. The bed creaked under the rhythm of his savage hips.

He leaned in close, voice dark and filthy in her ear. “You’re taking my cock so well, bitch.”

“F-Fuck, thank you Castiel, fuck,” she gasped, head still pressed to the mattress. One hand slipped down her body, trembling fingers finding her clit. The first touch sent her hips jerking forward, her body reacting on instinct. Her fingers moved in tight circles, hips spreading wider unconsciously.

Castiel groaned.

He slammed into her even harder at the sight of her touching herself. “Jesus... fuck… you look so fucking hot taking my dick while playing with your pussy.” His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back slightly. “Don’t stop touching yourself, baby.”

She obeyed, fingers moving faster, circles tighter, her moans growing louder.

And then she felt him halt—like something hit him.

She barely had the energy to lift her head, but she forced herself to glance over her shoulder.

He was holding the plug.

The plug.

The thick, fist-sized one. His fingers gripped the bottle of lube with his other hand, and her entire body clenched around his cock at the sight.

He tensed. She saw it. But there—there it was—a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face.

He locked eyes with her, pouring lube generously onto the cold plug.

“I think my girl needs this big ass plug in her ass while I fuck her,” he said, voice like thunder and sin.

He brought the slick, cold tip to her back hole, pressing it against the puckered entrance.

“How do you like it?” he asked, rubbing it slowly in a tight circle. “Do I just shove it all in at once? Or do you like to play with the girth? To feel the biggest part of the plug opening your hole completely, over and over again?”

“Oh fuck, Castiel, please play with it,” she begged, hips grinding back into his cock on their own, still buried deep in her soaked pussy. “I want it like that—please.”

His smirk deepened, eyes locked on her trembling, desperate body.

“Fuck, you really are my perfect little slut.”

He began to work the plug in—slow, teasing. Not letting it slide fully in, just rocking the widest part of it against her stretched rim, keeping her on edge, in constant tension. “Is this what you wanted?”

“F-Fuck yes, Castiel, I love that,” she whimpered, her voice thin with pleasure, her hole stretching wide around the unrelenting pressure of the plug.

“Fuck…” he groaned, watching her tremble. “Listening to you beg for that thick plug…”

He pressed it deeper, letting her tight muscle stretch further around the girth.

“How does it feel?” he asked, nearly growling. “Having your pussy full of my cock, and your ass getting fucking wrecked by this plug?”

“It feels so good, Cass… so fucking right. God, I don’t know how my ass isn’t breaking right now.”

He chuckled darkly, starting to move the plug in harder now—each thrust letting it go a little further in, slowly claiming her. “It looks like it’s trying to, though. Your little hole is stretched so fucking wide around this plug.”

She couldn’t even form words anymore—only moans. Her body rocked back into him, and suddenly she shoved her hips toward his, impaling herself fully—taking his cock deeper, taking the plug all the way.

He gasped, his breath catching violently as he felt her clamp down like a vice.

“Sweet fucking Christ…”

His fingernails dug into her hips, hard, enough to leave marks.

“The fucking way your pussy squeezes me now… fuck.”

He picked up speed, pounding into her with brutal force. The plug stayed buried, unmoving, stretching her every time his cock slammed forward.

“Are you close, baby?” he asked, breath harsh and ragged.

“Fuck!! Yes, Cass, I’m so close—oh please—thank you—God—”

She couldn’t stop. Her voice turned to nonsense, her body a burning fuse.

“Come on then,” he growled, slamming into her again. “Fucking come all over my dick.”

His hand reached around, rubbing her clit roughly. That was it.

Her pussy clamped down tight.

She burst.

Her orgasm crashed into her like a wave—her scream muffled by the mattress as she squirted, a wet rush soaking his thighs. Her body collapsed forward, quivering, wrecked.

Castiel groaned loud and raw, feeling her squeeze and pulse around his cock. “Holy shit… you came so fucking hard…”

He kept moving, chasing his own release, thrusts erratic now, his climax so close he could taste it.

She clenched again, squeezing around him, trying to milk everything he had.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck!” he shouted, head thrown back as his cock throbbed inside her, pumping deep with thick, hot spurts. His balls emptied inside her in spasm after spasm.

“Your fucking pussy…” he moaned, collapsing forward over her, gasping against her back.

They stayed there—joined—panting, trembling, her body limp beneath his, his cock twitching inside her with aftershocks.

Then he started to pull away.

“No—wait!” she gasped, slamming her hips back against his. “Don’t pull out yet. Get some tissues from my nightstand. Can you reach them? No condom, remember? I don’t want to make a mess out of my mattress.”

She chuckled softly, breathless.

He laughed too, breath shaky, and reached over to the nightstand without pulling out. “Damn. You really don’t want me pulling out, huh?” He tore off a few tissues, prepping for the mess.

She took some and immediately placed them between her thighs, right against her pussy, hoping to catch the thick spill of his cum.

He watched her move, eyes dark, fascinated. Then, slowly, he pulled out. His cock slid free, softening, trailing a slow, creamy line behind it.

The tissues soaked immediately, thick with his seed.

“Fuck… look at that,” he breathed, awestruck.

She laughed at the sound of his voice.

Then she felt his hands again—spreading her cheeks wider, inspecting her, admiring the mess he made.

“Like what you’re seeing?” she teased, glancing back.

“Jesus…” he muttered.

He spread her open wider, watching his cum trickle out slowly, soaking into the tissues she’d pressed in place.

“Do you know how dirty this looks? My cum… leaking out of your pussy like that?”

She giggled and turned over, scooting toward the edge of the bed. “Give me a minute.”

She waddled like a penguin toward the bathroom, both of them laughing now.

He heard the door creak open, the seat groan as she sat, the faint splash of more of his release dripping out of her into the water below.

His grin didn’t fade.

She peed, cleaned herself up, then carefully removed the thick plug, rinsing it off in the sink with warm water and soap, leaving it on the counter to dry.

When she stepped back into the bedroom, he was sprawled across her bed, one arm flung lazily over his face, chest still rising and falling. His cock lay soft and spent against his stomach.

She crawled into bed beside him.

His arms wrapped around her instantly—tight, warm, possessive.

As she crawled into bed beside him, Castiel immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close until his softening cock nestled against her hip. His skin was still warm, sweat barely fading. “Mmm… come here,” he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin—her mixed with him—and letting out a deep, content sigh.

She smiled sweetly and leaned in, giving him a passionate, lingering kiss before dropping her head on his chest, ear resting over the steady beat of his heart.

His fingers threaded into her hair, stroking gently, the tips tracing soft lines through her strands as his chest rose and fell beneath her. The storm of orgasm was still retreating in waves from his body, and his breath began to slow, peace settling over him. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slow and reverent.

She shifted slightly, just enough to look up at him, eyes searching his, hesitating for a moment before asking softly, “Do—uhm, do you want to… spend the night?”

The nerves in her voice, the hint of embarrassment, tugged something in him.

He looked down at her, expression softening immediately. His fingers continued their slow strokes through her hair. “You’re asking if I want to stay the night?” His voice was low, soothing—gently teasing, but kind.

She chuckled, unsure if he was mocking her or not. “Y-yeah, that’s literally what I just asked you.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, arms tightening around her body like she was something he needed to keep pressed to him. “Well then yes, I want to spend the night. Unless you’re trying to kick me out already?” he teased, fingers tracing lazy patterns over her bare back. “I mean; I did just ruin your mattress with my cum.”

“Wait—seriously?” she snapped her head up quickly, eyes darting to the mattress beneath them. She checked for any damp spots, any signs of the mess he claimed—but found none. Her eyes narrowed. “…Jerk.”

He burst out laughing, watching her with amusement as she frantically inspected the bed. “You really fell for that?”

She glared at him, playfully pissed, her eyes locking on his. “You are really making me reconsider that invitation I just gave you, ya know that?”

He laughed harder, his chest rising beneath her as he tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders protectively. “You should take it back,” he said with mock solemnity. “Maybe I should go home and sleep alone. Maybe jack off in the shower instead of being here.”

“Oh? Did I leave you so unsatisfied you need to jack off?” she joked, feigning offense, her voice full of sass.

He grinned wide, clearly enjoying the game. “Oh, absolutely. I mean, I could barely even finish with you. It was so underwhelming that I might need to take matters into my own hands.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Hmm, well, if you manage to not make me kick you out in the middle of the night, I may have a chance to redeem myself,” she said, sitting up and reaching for the ashtray on her desk. “Now, with that being said… cigarettes after sex?” She motioned the ashtray toward him.

He chuckled and sat up beside her, taking the offered cigarette. Lighting up, he exhaled smoke through his nose and said, “You know, most people would offer water or something after... not a cigarette.”

“Oh please,” she said, lighting her own and putting the cigarette pack back in his jacket. “The ciggie after sex is like… the second-best thing after sex. And it’s a close contender with cumming for the number one spot.”

He nearly choked on his inhale, coughing through his laugh. “Where the fuck did you learn that line?” he asked, smoke slipping past his lips as he grinned.

“I wrote it myself,” she said, grinning as she took a drag. “After many experiences.”

She shot him a playful glance.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one. Isn’t there an indie band literally called Cigarettes After Sex?”

He laughed outright, shaking his head. “You know what? You’re probably right. And yeah, there is that band.”

He leaned against the headboard, cigarette between his fingers, looking at her through the haze. “So... how many experiences are we talking about here? Should I be worried?”

She chuckled, dragging from her cigarette and looking at him with a sly grin. “I could ask you the same thing. You definitely didn’t move like a beginner.”

He let out a low, smug chuckle, head tilting slightly, meeting her gaze without blinking. “Touché. And FYI? I’m the type who likes having fun, but I’m not exactly fucking every random person who crosses my path. Quality over quantity, you know?”

She nodded slowly, cigarette between her fingers. “Yeah, I get that.” She paused, eyes meeting his. “And FYI…” Her voice softened slightly, teasing layered with something tender. “You’re the first guy I’ve actually asked to spend the night.”

He went still for a beat.

His expression softened immediately, something vulnerable passing through his eyes. He ashed his cigarette carefully before replying. “Well, fuck me. Am I supposed to be honored? Or afraid you’re gonna stab me in my sleep?”

His voice was light, but there was an unmistakable warmth beneath the teasing.

“Hmmm…” She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Definitely scared. I have some pretty big knives in the kitchen.”

He laughed, shaking his head and taking another drag. “Noted. I’ll sleep with one eye open then.”

He paused, his eyes tracing over her face for a second longer, more serious. “Seriously though… thank you. For letting me stay.”

She smiled softly, shaking her head slightly, wordlessly trying to tell him—thank you… for staying.

Her eyes drifted down his body, taking in the lines of his soft abs, the blanket covering his waist. Then her gaze moved to her bedside table—and froze.

01:01 AM.

She bolted upright, nearly launching herself from the bed.

Castiel blinked in confusion. “Where are you going?” he asked, his voice soft and a little wary as he watched her sudden burst of urgency.

“I haven’t taken Moony out,” she said quickly, a jolt of panic in her chest. “I usually walk him at midnight—poor thing, I hope he hasn’t peed in the kitchen.”

She saw him tense at her words—way more than expected.

Then it clicked. Demon.

He’d completely forgotten about his dog, the one with no one else to walk him.

His expression shifted, guilt flickering in his eyes. He nodded slowly, starting to get up, already looking for his clothes. “Shit, I get it. You gotta take Moony out.” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should probably do the same for Demon.”

His eyes met hers, something quiet and apologetic flickering inside them. “I told you I’d stay, but I wasn’t thinking about Demon when I said it.”

“Oh. Oh—it’s okay,” she said quickly, trying not to sound too disappointed. “You need to take care of Demon first.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he muttered, frustrated with himself. “I was so caught up in… other things tonight—” he shot her a meaningful glance, “that I completely forgot about Demon. He’s probably been whining his little furry ass off this whole time.”

She smiled at his phrasing, already reaching for her shoes. “How about I accompany you home? Moony deserves a long walk, and our dogs haven’t had a playdate in forever.”

He blinked. “You don’t mind?”

She nodded, sheepish. “Not at all. Come on, big boy.”

He smirked at the name, grabbing his jacket. “Do you realize you just called me ‘big boy’?”

She gave him a slow once-over, letting her eyes linger down his body, dragging them a bit longer over his crotch before looking up again. “Yeah, big boy suits ya,” she said, biting back a laugh.

He chuckled deeply, stepping close. His voice dropped low. “You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

She clipped Moony’s collar on and opened the door. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, the grin in her voice unmistakable.

He laughed as she locked up behind them. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

They walked into the night, the streets empty and the temperature cooler now. As they neared his building, she leaned into his side for warmth, shivering slightly in her old sweater.

He paused, noticing immediately. “Wait a minute.”

She looked up at him, clutching Moony’s leash tighter.

Castiel shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over her shoulders without a word, his shirt clinging to his chest underneath. “Here. Unless you want to freeze your cute ass off.”

She smiled, something sweet flickering in her chest at the gesture—more intimate than even the sex.

“You think I’ve got a cute ass?” she teased.

His jaw tensed as he tried not to grin too wide. His eyes dropped to her backside. “You know exactly how fucking cute your ass is. Don’t fish for compliments.”

He started walking again, jaw twitching with amusement. “Though I gotta say…”

“Hm?” she asked, watching Moony sniff the pavement.

“…for someone who just got fucked right, you’re definitely acting cockier than usual.” He smirked. “These walk-of-shames you’re doing to my ego are killing me.”

She laughed loud, breath fogging the air. As they reached his building’s door, she looked up and grinned. “You know… you should probably grab a change of clothes if you’re still planning on staying over. That way you’re spared the actual walk of shame tomorrow.”

He chuckled, holding the door open for her and Moony. “Smartass. You know what? That’s actually a good idea.”

He turned with a wink. “I’ll grab some clothes. Give me a sec.”

While he disappeared into his room, Demon came charging down the hall, tail wagging furiously. The dog greeted them like it had been years, not hours.

Castiel reemerged minutes later with a gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“All right, all right.”

“Let’s give Demon a walk,” she said with a smile.

Castiel clipped the leash on. “Yeah. Poor bastard looks ready to explode.”

Together they walked the block, dogs tugging happily ahead of them. When they circled back to his building, she turned to him, standing outside with a soft smile. “We’ll wait for you here while you take Demon back up.”

She leaned in, giving him a shy, chaste kiss.

He smiled, thumb brushing over her cheek as he kissed her back—soft and sweet this time, no heat, just warmth. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him disappear into the elevator with Demon.

Then she looked down at Moony.

His tail wagged as he stared after the elevator like he knew—like he approved.

She took a cigarette from her pocket, lit it, and exhaled slow, the taste of sex and smoke still clinging to her lips.

About five minutes later, Castiel emerged from the building alone, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Demon was settled in, fed and passed out, likely exhausted from all the whining he’d probably done. Castiel paused as he stepped out, eyes landing on the figure waiting for him under the streetlamp—her, cigarette in hand, smoke curling around her face like something sacred.

The moonlight hit her just right, outlining her profile, catching in her lashes, making her look almost unreal.

Ethereal.

He stood there a second longer, just looking.

She turned at the sound of the door creaking open and met his gaze. “What?” she asked shyly, turning back toward Moony, who was now sniffing eagerly at Castiel’s legs.

He smirked and walked over, leaning casually against the wall beside her. “Nothing,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her cheek as they lingered a second too long. “Just admiring the view.” He pulled back, adding with a lazy grin, “Smoking again?”

She sighed as they started walking back toward her apartment, Moony trotting contentedly beside them. “Yeah, I know. I should probably try to cut it a bit, but… it’s just a really bad habit to break.”

He didn’t press. He knew better. Nagging would only dig her in deeper.

“You should at least try to reduce it,” he said gently, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I know,” she muttered, glancing at him before looking back at the street. A sheepish smile curled her lips. “I know.”

He glanced sideways at her as she smoked, and for a second he saw her differently—not the girl in the lingerie drawer, not the teasing brat who could make his cock twitch with a look—but something else. The way she furrowed her brows in thought, the way her cheek hollowed slightly as she inhaled. He found himself thinking, Jesus Christ, is there anything about her that doesn’t make him want more?

Soon enough, they reached her apartment.

She pulled out her keys, unlocking the door quietly as they slipped inside. Moony padded in without a sound, tail swaying lazily. She moved through the place quickly, settling Moony for the night before heading to her bedroom.

Castiel was already there.

His naked back greeted her—broad and strong, glowing faintly in the moonlight filtering through the open window. His clothes were folded over the chair at her desk, and he stood wearing nothing but his boxers. When he heard her step in, he glanced over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

The low-slung fabric on his hips, the sharp cut of his V-line—it should’ve been illegal.

“You have no business being this hot, ya know?” she teased, opening her bed and laying out extra blankets for the cold night.

He chuckled, turning to face her fully. His abs flexed as he moved, slow and easy. “And you have no business being this adorable.”

He watched her quietly as she moved around the room, his eyes following every shift of her body with that low-burning hunger still simmering under the calm.

She took off his jacket and her sweatshirt, fingers lingering at the hem of her shirt. She hesitated for only a second—just long enough to catch the way his gaze darkened. She smiled at him, playful, knowing.

Then she pulled the shirt off.

Her chest was bare again, pierced nipples stiffening in the cool air. She breathed slow, reminding herself he’d already seen it all. They’d fucked just an hour ago—but somehow this felt more intimate. More exposed.

She reached for the waistband of her pants.

Castiel’s breath caught. His eyes were locked on her nipples, then lower, as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed her pants down.

They dropped to the floor.

All that remained was her black lace thong.

She moved toward him, slowly, then paused at the desk—grabbed his used t-shirt from the chair—and pulled it on.

The hem barely hit her thighs.

She caught his eyes again. “What?”

His brows rose, lips tugging into an amused smirk as she suddenly covered herself. “Oh, nothing,” he said, leaning back against the window frame with his arms crossed, watching her through lidded eyes.

She nodded toward the alarm clock on her bedside table. “It’s 2 AM on a school night,” she said, her voice soft but knowing. “And if I miss class and they call my parents, I don’t think we’ll have the rest of the week for ourselves.”

Her hand pressed to his chest, caressing him slowly, fingers trailing.

He groaned internally. She was right, of course. But fuck.

He looked down at her hand, the heat of her palm against his skin. He caught it gently, stopping her fingers. “Yeah, yeah…”

She hesitated. “We—uhm… if you want to stay the night tomorrow, you can too.” Her voice was quieter now, unsure. The lines of their relationship were still foggy.

His expression softened instantly.

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles tenderly. “You know what? I’d actually like that.”

Her heart thudded—swelled.

She smiled, a genuine, open expression, and tugged him gently down with her. They crawled into bed together, under the blankets, his arms wrapping around her instinctively, her head resting on his chest.

He stroked her hair slowly, listening to her soft breathing, feeling the shape of her settle against him.

“This is nice,” he murmured, staring at the ceiling, content to just hold her.

“Yeah…” she whispered. Her thoughts were loud, jumbled—her body still tingling, her mind spinning. How did everything happen so fast?

She looked up at him and didn’t say anything—just kissed him. Deep. Slow.

Then reached toward the outlet and flicked the light off.

He kissed her back just as deeply, his hand rising to cup her cheek. When she turned off the light, the room fell into stillness. His eyes stayed open for a while, listening to her breathing, matching the rhythm of his own thoughts.

In the dark, she whispered, teasing:

“Oh, and Castiel?”

He raised a brow, smirking even without seeing her. “Hmm?”

His hand drifted lazily across her bare arm under the covers, tracing slow circles.

“Tomorrow… we can seriously talk about you taking my anal virginity,” she said, smiling against his chest.

He choked.

Literally.

His body tensed, his breath caught, and he stared up at the ceiling like he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. A hot flush crept up his neck as the silence stretched—while she curled up against him, peaceful, shameless, falling asleep.

He lay there for a long moment.

Staring.

Processing.

Trying not to get hard again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered to no one.

Chapter Text

Her alarm went off at exactly 7:30 AM.

A shrill, obnoxious blast that cut through the peace of tangled limbs and warm sheets like a buzzsaw.

Both of them groaned in unison.

She fumbled for her phone and slammed the snooze, blinking blearily at the screen. Several message notifications hovered there, timestamped at 5 in the morning.

hii love — 05:02 AM

i’m sorry for not calling you tonight — 05:02 AM

we messed up with the different time zones — 05:02 AM

how are you and Moony? — 05:02 AM

We are still here in the hospital with your aunt, and the doctors say it looks optimistic — 05:03 AM

i promise i’ll give you a call tonight — 05:03 AM

i’ve transferred some money for you to get groceries — 05:03 AM

Love — 05:03 AM

Mum 💜 — 05:03 AM

Dad says he loves you too 😘😘 — 05:06 AM

She dropped her phone back onto the nightstand with a quiet thud and curled herself into Castiel without a word, her forehead nudging against his shoulder.

Castiel groaned again but didn’t complain—just instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, pulling her in possessively. He loved how she folded into him like this, like a cat tucking itself into warmth, her cheek resting softly against his chest.

But she hadn’t said a single thing about the message. And he’d felt the tone shift.

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her face, which was now buried against his neck.

“Everything alright?” His voice was low, gentle, lined with sleep. “Was that from your mum?”

She nodded slightly, murmuring against his skin. “Yeah… she forgot to call me last night, so she was checking in.”

He could feel her breath warm against his neck. Still quiet. Still holding something back.

His grip on her waist tightened slightly. “And?” he prompted, catching the weight behind her silence.

She shifted her chin onto his chest, eyes meeting his. “It’s just… my aunt. Remember I told you they were visiting her?”

He nodded.

“She’s got cancer. And the shitty kind.” Her voice wavered slightly. “She was admitted to the hospital last Friday. They weren’t sure she’d make it through the night… but she did. My mom just told me she’s out of the danger zone now.”

His expression softened instantly. He pulled her higher against his body, adjusting so she lay more comfortably across his chest. His hand rose to stroke her hair gently, fingertips moving slow.

“That’s good news,” he murmured. “Your mum must’ve been worried sick.”

“Yeah… they’re gonna stay the rest of the week. My aunt still lives with my grandma, and they don’t want her being alone. Especially now.”

He nodded again, fingers trailing along her scalp, grounding her. “Makes sense. It’s admirable, really—how your family rallies like that.” He tilted his head, searching her eyes. “How are you holding up with all this?”

She shrugged, eyes flicking away. “I—I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really processed it yet. It just feels like… it’s happening to someone else. I guess not being there makes it easier to feel numb.”

He nodded slowly. “Distance can do that. Makes it feel like it’s not real sometimes. Like a buffer between you and everything.”

His thumb brushed softly against her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect you.”

She nodded, barely, but her mind was already shifting. She didn’t want to think about hospitals. About cancer. Not now.

Not with Castiel, half-naked, arms around her, warmth soaking into her skin.

She leaned in suddenly and kissed him—passionately, her tongue immediately finding his, mouth hot and demanding.

He responded instantly.

His arms clutched her tighter, pulling her fully on top of him, rolling onto his back as their kiss deepened, hands roaming across her back. His tongue tangled with hers, heat rising fast between them again.

She felt his morning wood—hard and heavy, pressing insistently through his boxers right between her legs.

She moaned softly into his mouth and rolled her hips against him, slow at first, then rougher.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pant, “You should stop moving…”

A wicked smile curled against his lips as she moved again, hips grinding down harder. “And why should I?” she whispered, running her tongue along her upper teeth.

He groaned low, deep in his chest. His hands gripped her thighs tighter, possessive. “Because if you don’t stop moving like that, I’m going to fuck you right here, right now.”

“Is that a threat…?” she murmured, lowering herself to nip at his lower lip with her teeth. Her hands moved from his collarbones down his chest, tracing his abs, her nails leaving red lines along his V-line.

She sat up on his hips, still wearing his dirty shirt like a trophy, dragging it upward slowly as her hands came up to cup her breasts. She pinched her pierced nipples between her fingers, biting her lip, letting the shirt ride high enough to expose her lace thong and a flash of her stomach.

“…or a promise?”

His pupils blew wide.

“It’s a fucking promise,” he growled.

Before she could even blink, he flipped her onto her back. His large body hovered over hers, eyes blazing. He shoved the shirt up, exposing her stomach, her panties.

His hands seized her breasts roughly, squeezing, kneading. His mouth crashed onto hers in a bruising kiss that stole her breath.

She arched into him, her thighs instinctively wrapping around his hips. Their tongues tangled as heat surged through her belly.

He broke the kiss, panting, “Lift your legs.”

She did. And he moved fast, hooking his arms under her knees and spreading her wide.

She reached down, tugged her thong aside just in time for him to lower his boxers.

His cock sprang free—thick, flushed, hard—bobbing against his stomach before resting heavy over her mound.

He looked down, cock twitching at the sight of her slick, spread pussy against the base of his shaft.

“You’re not gonna be able to sit for a week after this,” he growled.

She looked up at him through her lashes, arms overhead, seductive and surrendered. “Oh believe me,” she whispered, “I won’t complain.”

With a grunt, he slammed into her—one rough, brutal thrust that filled her to the hilt.

Her back arched off the bed, her mouth fell open, a silent cry of pleasure rippling through her.

He gripped her legs tighter, holding them open and up as he began pounding into her without mercy. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, the bed rattling against the wall.

She bit her lip hard, the sight of him wrecking her nearly too much. His red hair hung in messy strands over his forehead, chest already glistening, his jaw clenched as he drove into her again and again.

“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty,” he growled.

She smiled, eyes glazed, too high on pleasure to respond. One hand slid between her thighs, fingers finding her clit, circling fast. Her other hand came up to tug and pinch one pierced nipple.

He groaned, watching her fall apart beneath him.

“Goddamn it,” he growled. “You’re gonna make me come too soon.”

“Oh fuck yes,” she gasped. “I’m gonna cum too, Cass—fuck—cum with me, yeah?”

Their eyes locked. She bit her lip.

That was it.

“Shit,” he groaned, slamming into her harder, deeper. “Fuck, fuck…” His rhythm broke, thrusts messy, desperate. “Don’t stop touching yourself…”

“Oh fuck yes, Cass, yeah thank you, oh God!!” she cried out, her whole body seizing as her orgasm crashed into her.

Her pussy clamped around him, hard.

He let out a primal growl, his cock jerking deep inside her, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum as he kept fucking through the pleasure. His arms trembled from the intensity.

“Holy fuck…” he panted, forehead pressed to hers, breathless.

She gasped for air, pussy still pulsing, his weight above her grounding her like gravity.

“Yeah…” she whispered, still dazed. “That was… woah. Hahaha…”

Then she glanced to her nightstand.

08:11 AM.

Fuck.

“We have class at 9. Can you get a tissue?”

He followed her gaze. “Shit, is that the time?”

He reached for the box on the nightstand, grabbed one, and leaned in to press a playful kiss to her cheek as he handed it to her.

She giggled, took it, and pressed it down where their bodies were still joined, catching the thick release already beginning to leak out.

He watched her, mesmerized, then gently pulled out. A wet sound followed, and the tissue darkened immediately with his cum.

“Fuck…” he murmured, voice low.

She smiled at him and slipped off the bed, tissue still pressed between her thighs as she walked toward the bathroom. “You should probably shower. There’s another one in the hall.”

Castiel nodded, stretching his lean, naked body before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be quick.”

He watched her sit on the toilet, tissue still tucked between her legs, and then turned to head out, a smirk playing on his lips.

She showered fast, scrubbing the scent of sex off her body. By the time she returned to her room, towel around her body and hair damp, the clock now read 08:42 AM.

Castiel was fully dressed, standing by her bed, trying to make it look at least semi-decent after what they’d done to it.

He looked up at her, serious. “You better hurry up and get dressed.”

“Yeah,” she said, dashing toward her closet.

She grabbed her red tartan square skirt and a black loose sheer shirt.

She turned to her underwear drawer—

“I already picked those out for ya,” Castiel said.

He held up a matching black lace thong and a red-and-black bra, smirking as he tossed them to her.

“Thought I’d help since you’re running late.”

She eyed him, chuckling. Then, without a word, dropped the towel right in front of him.

His eyes burned into her as she dressed quickly. Moments later, they were rushing out, after she tossed some food into Moony’s bowl.

They nearly ran to school.

Castiel kept pace easily, occasionally glancing down at the way her skirt bounced around her thighs, how the lace he picked peeked out at the edges.

He opened doors dramatically along the way, still trying to look like a gentleman despite their obvious rush.

They slipped into class just as Professor Farrés began taking attendance, sliding quietly into their seats in the back of the classroom, quiet, flushed, pretending nothing happened, doing their best as to not draw the attention of anyone.

Castiel’s arm brushed against hers subtly as he leaned over, his breath warm on her ear.

“You remember to bring your notebook?” he whispered, his voice low and rough from sleep.

She gave a small huff, barely a whisper. “I didn’t even take my wallet,” she muttered, smirking as she tilted her pocket toward him to reveal a familiar pack. “I only grabbed the indispensables.”

Castiel's lips twitched, trying to suppress a chuckle. His gaze flicked to the edge of the cigarette pack sticking out of her pocket, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. At least she’s consistent. “At least you’ve got your priorities straight.”

“Hell yeah I do,” she murmured. Her fingers curled loosely around her pencil, feigning focus. “We... ehem, we should focus on class. Maybe we can talk at break?”

He caught the hesitation in her voice and nodded slightly, picking up on the unspoken boundary. Yeah, not the time. He shifted back in his seat, letting the space settle between them while his hand idly doodled in the margins of his notebook. But every few minutes, he found himself glancing her way.

Then, when Professor Farrés turned to scrawl something on the board, Castiel leaned closer and, without warning, drew a small ‘x’ on the back of her hand.

“Mhm.” She blinked down at it and whispered, brow furrowed but not angry, “What was that for?”

He smirked faintly, still facing forward. “No reason.” His pen hovered again. Another ‘x’ joined the first.

She didn’t flinch.

He found her calm unnerving, hilarious even, in that quiet chaos she always seemed to carry. He moved to draw a third—only to feel her snatch the pen from his fingers.

She scribbled something quick on the back of his hand. He looked down.

A very deformed, absolutely ridiculous doodle of a dick.

He stared at it for half a second, momentarily stunned, and then shook with silent laughter, shoulders jerking. Of course she’d do that. Without a word, he grabbed the pen back and, beside her crude sketch, drew a much more detailed—and anatomically correct—dick of his own. He handed it back with a smirk.

“Very mature.”

She spent the rest of class doodling on his hand, filling the empty spaces with chaotic little lines and symbols. He would look so hot with a hand tattoo. Neither of them said much until the bell rang.

As they walked down to the basement, they passed Lysander in the hall. Castiel nodded toward him casually, his hand still covered in her messy art. Lysander raised a brow at the ink-covered skin but said nothing.

Once they reached the dim, empty basement, Castiel turned, leaning lazily against the cold wall. That smirk was back.

She narrowed her eyes at it, suspicious. “What’s that smile for?”

He crossed his arms, the ink on his hand visible even under the fluorescent lights. “Just admiring the masterpieces you left me.” His tone was dry, amused. “Did you seriously draw a dick just to get back at me for marking your hand with an ‘x’?”

She held up two fingers dramatically. “TWOOO. You put two 'x’s.” Then she laughed at the absurdity of it all and pulled her cigarettes out of her pocket, offering him one.

He took it, fingers brushing lightly against hers. He leaned in close to light it from her flame, inhaled deeply, and let the smoke trail slowly from his mouth. His expression softened into a real, unguarded smile.

“Fair point,” he said, “Two ‘x’s. But still—a dick? What are you, six?”

“Seven,” she corrected, deadpan, taking a long, practiced drag of her cigarette.

He laughed, really laughed, watching the way her lips wrapped around the filter, the way her cheeks hollowed as she inhaled. God, that was hot. Why the hell was that hot? His gaze lingered too long, zoning out.

She caught him staring.

“Should we be acting like this at school?” she asked, voice quieter now, a hint of nerves laced in.

He blinked, snapping back into himself. Fuck. He took a long drag of his own to stall, straightening slightly, his expression softening. “Probably not. People might talk.”

She hummed, her eyes flicking to the floor, then back up—only to find him already looking at her. “And they could get the wrong idea about what we are…”

Castiel held her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable moving behind his eyes. He looked away briefly, tapped ash to the floor, then turned back. “Like what? That we’re friends who draw dicks on each other’s hands?” He smirked, trying to break the tension.

“Are we?... just that?” she asked softly, brows furrowing as she brought her cigarette to her lips again. Her eyes dropped to his shirt, and she deliberately avoided his face.

Castiel watched her carefully.

She’s scared.

He took a slow step forward, his cigarette dangling from his mouth as he reached out and gently tilted her chin up with two fingers.

“No,” he said quietly.

She exhaled slowly, eyes locked on his. Her chest tightened like her heart was trying to beat through her ribs.

He leaned in, voice low and rasped. “We’re not just friends, okay? We’re something more. Something… complicated.” His thumb traced the line of her jaw. “Does that scare you?”

She dropped her gaze, blinking rapidly. Her voice came out as a whisper. “Yeah… I—I don’t know how to do this. It’s all just so complicated. We’ve been friends for years and I care so much about you… I don’t think I’ve ever fucked a guy I cared about this much. Not even close, actually. And I—I tried to make it casual but I—I don’t think I can…”

She stopped herself.

She was rambling. Babbling.

Tears slid down her cheeks silently.

Castiel went still.

He stared at her—really stared—his chest rising slowly.

No games. No sarcasm. Just her, breaking wide open in front of him.

His thumb brushed her cheek, catching one of the tears.

“Shut up,” he whispered. Then leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. Soft. Gentle. Unlike any kiss they’d shared before.

It wasn’t a fuck-buddy kiss. It wasn’t a teasing kiss. It was something else entirely.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

His arms pulled her closer, and hers wrapped tight around his neck.

He kissed her again. Slower. Deeper. His mouth moved to her jaw, then down her neck, voice hot against her skin. “This isn’t casual. This isn’t a hookup.”

She could barely breathe, waiting for the words she’d been too afraid to say out loud.

“If I fuck you,” he said, “it’s not casual. It means something. Something big. Something that scares the hell out of me. Because I might actually like you.”

She held her breath. Her heart was already bursting.

Then—relief. Joy. Something overwhelming.

“I may like you too,” she whispered, smiling softly. She closed the distance between them, finding his lips again.

He met her eagerly.

His kiss deepened, hands gripping her hips, pulling her against the stiffness in his jeans. When he broke the kiss, he barely breathed the words against her lips.

“I might fucking love you.”

She laughed against his mouth, overwhelmed, and murmured back, “I might fucking love you too.”

His grin turned into something rare—genuine and real, something that made his eyes light.

“Shit,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “You’re not making this easy for me. Am I being an idiot right now?”

She laughed through her sniffles. “I don’t know… are you being an idiot? More than usual?”

He rolled his eyes and smacked her ass lightly. “Smartass.” His grin widened. “I can’t tell if I’m being romantic or just stupid. ‘I might love you’ is a hell of a lot more than ‘Let’s fuck.’”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her face close. Their lips brushed.

“Then you’re gonna lose your shit with this one…” she whispered. “I love you. Not might. I love love you.”

He froze.

Stared.

Then melted.

His lips crashed into hers with a depth that wasn’t about sex at all. When he pulled back, his voice was low, raw.

“Fuck me.”

She giggled. “I think I already did.”

“Smartass,” he muttered again, nuzzling into her neck. “You know what I mean… you’re making me say stupid shit like ‘I love you.’ This was supposed to be a hookup.”

She smiled against his cheek. “It’s not stupid to me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as her fingers passed through his hair. “Goddammit,” he muttered affectionately. “You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.” His eyes opened slowly. “I love you too, you know.”

She kissed him deeply—and then jumped slightly as the bell rang.

“We should probably go to class,” she whispered, breathless.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, straightening up, adjusting his clothes. He grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “But you’re the worst. Making me fall in love with you…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she said with a smirk, slipping into her seat at the far corner of the room.

He dropped into the chair beside her, leaned close to her ear and murmured, “You better. I expect some serious making up later.”

Then he leaned back, pretending to focus.

She let her hand drift under the desk, casually brushing over his thigh—then his crotch—massaging slowly. Just enough.

“Believe me,” she whispered, withdrawing her hand to her notes, “I’m considering some serious making up.”

He bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud, shifting slightly in his seat to accommodate the very obvious effect she had on him. Fucking hell.

The classes dragged by after that. As the afternoon finally broke, Castiel said he needed to head home to feed and walk Demon.

She did the same—took Moony out, fed him, called her mum and had a quiet conversation about her aunt. After, she made her very rumpled bed, smoked a slow cigarette by the window, cleaned up her makeup, and styled her hair a bit before settling in on the living room’s couch with her laptop.

One leg crossed over the other. Another cigarette between her fingers.

Heart still pounding.

A little later, a knock sounded at her door. When she opened it, Castiel stood there with Demon at his heels, the late afternoon light catching just right on the tight black t-shirt stretched across his chest and the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His eyes locked onto hers with that lazy smirk just as Demon bolted straight past her into the apartment.

She peeked behind her to see Demon already greeting Moony, tails wagging and excited barks echoing through the room as the dogs chased one another.

Castiel leaned against the now-closed door, arms crossed. “Can I come in, or are you gonna make me stand here looking pretty?”

She lifted a brow and cocked her hip, playing. “Hmm, I don’t know... have you done anything to deserve it?”

He raised one eyebrow, the corner of his mouth curling. “Like what? Should I have brought treats for the dogs?” he drawled, stepping closer, the weight of his presence pressing into the room. “Or should I have bought you something?”

“Well, God forbid a girl likes to be pampered from time to time,” she teased.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes, now close enough to wrap his arms around her waist and tug her flush to his chest. “Fine, fine. Next time I’ll bring you flowers or some shit.” His tone dropped, suddenly softer as he looked down at her lips. “Happy now?”

She smiled, nodding, and closed the door behind him, fingers threading through his to pull him gently toward the living room. “I was just watching some Netflix. Fancy that?”

He gave a small nod and followed her, flopping lazily down on the couch beside her as her laptop sat open on the coffee table. His arm immediately looped around her, pulling her into his side. “What are you watching?” he asked, narrowing his eyes toward the screen. “Something boring, I bet.”

She snorted and pulled her legs up across his lap, cuddling closer and grabbing the laptop. “It’s a Korean show. Zombies in a high school. It's actually entertaining.”

He rested his chin on her knee, arms wrapped around her calves. He pretended to look unimpressed, but as the scene on screen escalated with students screaming and running, his brows lifted. “Okay… this isn’t as bad as I thought.”

She giggled and turned to give him a quick kiss before returning to the episode. They watched through a couple of them, time melting quietly away, and when she next checked her phone, the screen read just after six.

The sun outside was starting to dip, casting that golden-hour warmth across the living room—just in time for Castiel’s stomach to let out a loud growl, perfectly interrupting a tense moment on-screen.

He blinked and looked down at himself like it betrayed him. “Can we pause this?”

She bit back a laugh and reached to close her laptop, setting it back on the table. She stood and made her way to the kitchen, opening the cabinet and reaching for a bag of chips.

He followed and leaned lazily against the counter, arms crossed. “Is that it?” His tone was dubious, judgment thick in his voice. “We’re having chips for dinner?”

She raised an eyebrow as she turned toward him. “It’s six. In this house, dinner’s at ten. This—” she held the bag higher like it was sacred “—is a snack. Are you that hungry?”

He grinned, rolled his eyes, and snatched the bag from her hands. He dumped half of it into his palm and shoved them into his mouth without shame.

“No, not really,” he mumbled through a mouthful, lying through his teeth. His eyes still flicked down her body—tight shirt, bare thighs, unbothered and barefoot. Tiny clothes, perfect. He thought.

She snorted, eyeing him up and down. Then she reached up, plucked the chips from his hand, tossed the bag onto the counter, and kissed him hard.

He groaned into it immediately, his hands snapping to her hips as he yanked her closer. When he bit her bottom lip and pulled back, his eyes were already glazed with want. “Fuck,” he breathed, lips brushing hers. “What was that for?”

She grinned against his mouth, her fingers curling into his hair as her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. “I am hungry... just not for food.”

His eyes darkened instantly. Hands clutched her tighter. He lifted her up, sat her on the counter, stepping between her legs. His mouth hovered by her ear, voice a growl. “What are you hungry for then, hmm?”

Her fingers dragged along his shoulder. “Well…” she said, breath catching in her throat, “we still have something pending.”

Realization dawned in his eyes. Slowly. Darkly.

That promise.

The one she whispered before sleep.

His hands tightened on her thighs, possessive. He pulled back just far enough to lock eyes with her, searching. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, voice quieter now.

Then rougher. “Because once we start, I’m not stopping until you're screaming my name.” His forehead pressed to hers. “I need to know you're ready.”

Her eyes sparkled with arousal, with certainty. “I’m asking you to be the first man to fuck my ass,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his, savoring the way his breath stuttered.

He groaned, his cock twitching in his sweatpants. “Fuck,” he growled, hands gripping her ass harder. “You really know how to sweet talk a guy, huh?”

She slid forward, ass now perched on the edge of the counter. “Hmm, is it working?” she asked, her voice dipped in heat.

He growled low in his throat, kissed her deep, hungry, grinding his thick bulge between her legs so she could feel just how much it was working. “You have no fucking idea.”

She gasped softly, her sex already pulsing at the pressure of him pressed against her. Her hands clutched the edge of the counter as she leaned back, giving him a slow, sultry look. “Then what are you waiting for?”

His eyes glinted with danger.

He unbuckled his belt slowly, deliberately, letting the tension coil. He stepped in close, pushing her thighs further apart. “You want me to fuck that tight little ass?” he whispered.

She nodded, her voice breathy. “Yes… please.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweatpants and dragged them down, revealing his hard length, thick and flushed trapped in his boxers. He stepped forward again, one hand gripping her thigh, pushing her knees up.

“Spread your legs wider,” he ordered.

She obeyed, her shorts still clinging to her skin. The fabric stretched over-sensitive across her thighs, making her shiver.

He found the hem with careful fingers, knuckles brushing her belly as he pulled them—and her thong—down in one smooth movement. When she lifted her hips to help him, he looked up, gaze ravenous.

So wet already.

He knelt down.

She bit her lip, gasping, as he leaned in.

His breath ghosted over her bare sex before he flattened his tongue against her clit and licked—slow, deliberate, sinful.

She moaned loudly, legs folding over his shoulders as his fingers slipped between her folds.

His tongue circled her clit, sucking it gently. One finger slid into her pussy, curling, then another, stretching her open.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled. “And I’m just so fucking hungry for you.”

Her hips bucked at his voice, at the curling of his fingers. Every movement made her legs twitch. Her mind already blurred.

Then she felt it—his pinky finger, slick with spit, circling her back entrance.

He worked her slowly, murmuring against her pussy. “Just the tip for now. You took that big plug yesterday like a good girl.”

She whimpered. God, it was true—but the real thing still made her body burn with raw anticipation. The stretch of his pinky pushed her open slowly. The ache was perfect.

He felt her relax. Pushed deeper.

She moaned louder when he withdrew it only to coat his middle and index fingers in her slick arousal, then pressed both against her ass.

The stretch was real now.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “How’s this nasty hole still this tight?”

She gasped, hips shifting forward as her body tried to take more of him. The pressure made her squirm, made her crave.

He growled again, fingers pushing deeper, feeling her stretch tight around him. “Watching you take my fingers in your ass is making me so fucking hard…”

He lowered his mouth back to her pussy.

His tongue plunged in while his fingers worked her ass—slow, deep thrusts curling up into the spot that made her body jolt.

“You like this?” he breathed. “Want another one?”

“Yes, yes Cass,” she gasped, tangling a hand in his red hair. “I love it. Please. More.”

He groaned, added a third finger to her ass, stretching her open wide. She cried out at the burning pleasure, the pressure and his tongue sending her spiraling.

His fingers pumped, tongue flicking, swirling, until he bit gently on her clit.

And she shattered.

Her orgasm slammed into her like a freight train—legs trembling violently, thighs clenched around his head, arms barely holding her upright on the edge of the kitchen counter. She gasped as her whole body locked up, the sharp sting of stretch pulsing in her asshole where Castiel’s fingers remained buried, her pussy fluttering helplessly around his tongue. She saw white. Her muscles clenched violently around him, her mind gone.

Castiel didn’t let up. He kept fucking her with his tongue, moaning into her soaked folds, drinking her down like he needed her release to survive. His fingers stayed in her ass, feeling every tight spasm as she milked him with her body. He wanted her to feel this—remember this.

Only when she collapsed into herself, limp, trembling, gasping, did he finally ease out of her. Fingers slid wetly from her ass, tongue retreating from between her thighs. He leaned up, lips glistening with her slick, eyes dark and blown wide with hunger.

“Holy fuck…” he muttered, voice raspy and low.

She gasped for breath, legs lowering shakily into a seated position on the counter. A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her eyes found his—wild and loving it. “…Yeah,” she panted with a shaky laugh.

He wiped his mouth lazily, eyes raking over her body—hair mussed, cheeks flushed. Disheveled and ruined. He leaned closer, his mouth just inches from hers, his voice still smoldering. “You’re fucking soaked… and your ass is still gaping from my fingers.”

Her smile widened, eyes glinting with the filth he fed her. She slid off the counter and pressed herself against him, arms looping around his neck. She could feel him—his cock, still caged in boxers, thick and throbbing against her stomach.

His arms tightened around her, possessive and hard. “Feel that?” he growled, rocking his hips forward. “My cock is rock hard from devouring that delicious pussy.”

She giggled, tugging him down by the collar for another kiss, open and hungry. Their tongues clashed, her moan muffled in his mouth. He kissed her back fiercely, one hand sinking into her hair to tilt her just right, the other gripping her ass and squeezing hard.

When they finally broke apart, panting, she leaned in and murmured, “How about we go to my room?”

His gaze burned. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

She turned. He smacked her ass—hard. She jumped and laughed. He watched her walk, adjusting his bulge with a quiet curse.

Once in her room, she climbed onto the bed, stripping her shirt and lace bra. Her pierced nipples hardened in the cool air, her chest rising and falling, inviting.

But Castiel didn’t go to her yet.

Instead, he walked to the nightstand and opened the drawer. She watched him, biting her lip as he pulled out the big anal plug and the lube. He turned to her, holding them up like prizes.

“Figured I should get you as open as I can,” he said casually. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love fucking your pussy with this thing in your ass yesterday.”

She shivered, lust racing down her spine. He tossed the items onto the bed, stripping off his jacket, then his shirt. Her eyes followed the sharp lines of his chest, the way his abs tensed above the waistband of his boxers.

She rose to kiss him—but he stopped her with a rough grip on her hips. Spun her. Tossed her face-down into the bed. She yelped as her ass and pussy lifted into the air, on display.

He knelt behind her, spreading her thighs wide and admiring the slick between her legs. “Fuck…” he muttered again, reaching for the lube.

She arched her back more, offering herself up, hugging a pillow tightly beneath her. His cock twitched at the sight.

He lubed up the plug slowly, deliberately, then brought the tip to her asshole. Cold. Wet. He pressed it in slowly.

She gasped, moaned. Her hips rolled back instinctively, her body begging.

He didn’t push it all the way in. Instead, he fucked her with it—slow in, slow out, stopping at the widest stretch point just to feel her asshole flutter around it. Teasing. Punishing.

“Fuck, Cass, stop teasing!” she cried, voice strained.

He chuckled darkly. “Someone’s eager.”

He shoved the plug in to the hilt. She gasped loud, hips jerking.

“Ugh, fuck, please!!”

That broke him. He picked up the pace, slamming it in and out now, the stretch brutal and perfect. Her moans grew louder—raw need.

Then she felt the head of his cock against her pussy—and in a blink, he impaled her. One savage thrust. No warning.

She screamed into the pillow as he sank in to the base, the plug in her ass pushed deeper by his thumb. She came immediately, body seizing, pussy clenching tight.

Castiel groaned—deep, guttural—as she clenched around him. He didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, slamming into her over and over, the sound of skin on skin echoing.

Her body collapsed into the bed, limp. His hands gripped her hips like handles, yanking her into each thrust. “Baby,” he growled, voice hoarse.

“Y-yes?” she moaned.

“Do you want me to—fuck—can I fuck your ass?”

The question stole the breath from her lungs. She was so sensitive—but yes. Yes.

“Yes, Castiel, please! Fuck my ass!” she screamed.

He grunted, cock twitching hard. He pulled out of her pussy, wetness running down his length, and gripped the base of the plug.

He pulled it slowly out, watching her hole gape open around the absence, twitching.

Then—his tongue.

She gasped. He buried his face between her cheeks, tongue slipping into her gaping asshole. No one had ever done that to her—licked her there. Tasted her.

Her eyes rolled back.

He rimmed her, groaning as his tongue probed deep. Then he pulled back and spat directly into her hole. Warm. Wet.

“Fuck yes, Cass,” she moaned, digging her nails into the sheets.

He grinned. Spit again. Then grabbed the lube and poured it over her hole, watching it drip inside.

His cock, hard again and lubed, rubbed against her gaping entrance.

“Goddamn…” he whispered.

She moaned. “Yes, Cassy?”

“You want my cock in your ass, don’t you?” he growled. “Want me to claim this virgin hole all for myself?”

“Yes, please, Castiel!” she cried. “Fuck my ass! That hole belongs to you!”

His control broke. With a savage thrust, he sank in—slow, but forceful. The head popped past her ring, and he groaned loud. Her hole burned around him, stretching wide.

She gasped, clenching.

“Holy fuck…” he choked, spreading her cheeks wider, pushing in until he bottomed out.

“Fuck, Castiel, I love it… please move!” she moaned.

He pulled back—and slammed in. Hard.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from her clit, then yanked her hips up as he pounded her relentlessly.

“Fuck, look at you taking this dick like such a good girl…”

“Fuck, Castiel, I love your dick, it fucks me so good!”

He groaned. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna nut…”

He fucked her brutally, fingers digging into her hips, then to her shoulder, slamming her back into his thrusts.

She slipped her hand down and fingered her pussy, feeling the bulge of his cock moving through the thin wall. He groaned violently.

“Fucking hell!” he gasped. “That’s so fucking hot…”

She rubbed her clit, clenched hard, and screamed.

Her orgasm tore through her.

He felt it. Her ass clamped down, milking him.

“Fuck yes!” he roared, his own orgasm tearing out of him as he buried deep, unloading into her ass with a shudder. Rope after rope of cum poured into her.

And it made her come again. A smaller orgasm, white-hot.

He gasped as she milked him dry, watching her ass convulse.

He froze.

“What is it?” she asked dazed, turning her head to look at him.

“Did you just… come again from feeling my cum inside you?” he asked, voice thick.

She smiled faintly. He moaned. “Holy shit…”

He pulled back a bit gently, leaving only the tip inside her, and whispered, “Are you okay?”

She nodded and moaned again when his fingers slid into her pussy, three at once, his cock still inside her ass.

He pulled her upright by the hair, shoulder to chest, whispering, “Come on baby, give me one more…”

His thumb rubbed her clit, fingers curling. “Can you handle one more, sweet thing?” he whispered at her ear, squeezing her throat.

That was it.

Her whole body tensed—and she came again, collapsing forward, twitching on his fingers and cock.

“Good girl… good girl…” he whispered, kissing her spine. Then, a grin. “Can I do something dirty?”

She looked back. “Depends… what are you thinking?”

He licked her slick from his fingers. “I was thinking... hand me that plug.”

She grinned and passed it to him.

“Since you’re already full,” he said darkly, “let’s keep it that way.”

He coated it again in lube, pulled out gently, and pushed the plug back into her used, leaking hole. It popped in with a slick sound, sealing his cum inside.

“Do you even know how fucking hot you look like this?” he whispered.

She turned over slowly, feeling the plug settle. She opened her legs, pulling him down between them, and kissed him deeply.

And he kissed her like she was his.

Because she was.

Castiel kissed her like a man possessed, like someone who had just claimed something sacred. Their mouths moved together with a slow-burning hunger, her legs still wrapped around his waist, his body settled between her thighs. He could feel the base of the plug against his thigh. The plug inside her—pressing his cum deep, keeping her filled—the thought made his cock twitch again, even in its half-hard state.

She tasted like sweat and sex and the kind of vulnerability he never expected to crave. The kind that screamed this is real.

When their lips finally parted, she rested her forehead against his, both of them breathless.

“You know you’re completely ruined for anyone else now, right?” he muttered, voice hoarse, brushing a lock of damp hair from her cheek.

She smiled lazily, her fingers tracing idle patterns across the back of his shoulder. “Ruined sounds pretty mutual,” she teased, her voice sleepy, body relaxed but still humming from the overstimulation.

He chuckled against her neck, pressing a kiss just below her jaw. His hand slid down over her stomach, his palm warm and slow. “You always this greedy? Three orgasms and you still look like you want more.”

She laughed softly, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she arched her back slightly, pressing her hips into his. “Are you complaining?”

His gaze sharpened instantly, voice lowering into that rough whisper that always made her toes curl. “Fuck no.”

He dipped his head lower, his lips brushing the curve of her breast before trailing down her sternum. His tongue flicked against one nipple, then the other, teasing each piercing with lazy, circular motions.

Her breath hitched.

Castiel smirked. “Still sensitive?”

“Mhm…”

“I should take care of you.” He kissed down her stomach slowly, deliberately. “Not just use you like my personal fuck toy.”

She blinked down at him, surprised. “Was that guilt I just heard?” she teased.

He bit gently at her hip, making her yelp. “No. That was me saying I’m not done proving how good your first time taking it up the ass was.”

He knelt between her legs again, spreading her thighs apart. She felt the plug inside her shift slightly as he moved, every nerve in her lower body still raw and overresponsive.

“Wait,” she whispered, breath catching. “You’re gonna go down on me again?”

He looked up, eyes gleaming. “You’re leaking. And you look too good not to taste again.”

Her whole body flushed. She lifted her hips for him instinctively.

Castiel lowered his mouth, slow and reverent this time, licking a soft stripe through her folds. He groaned as he tasted her, a mix of her pleasure and his pre-cum still clinging to her entrance. He buried his tongue inside her like it was the only place he wanted to be.

She moaned, arching under him. Her hand found his hair again, fingers tangling in the red strands as her hips rocked gently against his mouth.

The plug moved inside her with every motion, each shift keeping her teetering on the edge of full, even though his cock wasn’t inside her anymore.

His tongue moved lower—trailing between her folds, circling her clit, then dipping to press just above the plug.

“You’re dripping down to here,” he murmured against her skin.

“Oh god, Cass…”

“I could keep you like this,” he whispered. “Plugged up and wet. Always ready for me.”

Her body quivered.

He licked her again, from her entrance all the way up to her clit, then sucked it gently between his lips.

Her moan came out strangled.

“Castiel…”

He looked up again, face wet, gaze dark.

“You want one more?” he asked, voice thick.

She hesitated, her body too raw, her nerves too fried. And yet… her hips rocked up again.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I want one more.”

He grinned.

“Good girl.”